BAD POEM ABOUT THE TRUTH

Had to take my poems underground
(maybe I'll go down to Galveston)
cause I heard it in that old radio-song

Build that old chopper I'm always talkin bout
(should I pull the trigger
make that really hard move
break down the walls she thinks she has)

What does she want with my power?
(last night I could see right through her bones)
and no one knows what her soul looks like
but me

Know one but me could let her go
I just kept drivin down the road
after I dropped her off...
she stood like something more haunting than any
spirit...

I couldn't go home
I had to keep drivin to the radio
she makes me drive to the radio
I'm gonna pave a highway that only we can drive on
make a kingdom that only we can get high on
(i know she'll find me there)
even if it takes a thousand years
(but everybody that's anybody knows there ain't no
such thing as time and any fool who could understand would know
that I have to make
her mine)

I was born to make her mine
and that puts blood in my time
and everything was born to die
and I was born to get high
born to ride and not be killed in battle
same as crazy-horse

and I am invoking the spirit of crazy horse

Lost my reason lost my rhyme
(but I feel the warrior inside)

she needs to feel my light and i need to stop anything that doesn't
make me free inside

the nothingness can only take you so far
and the earthly pleasures
and the gods
and the frail avatars